The Times Forgotten
by Cairn Rennin
Summary: How did the FF8 Universe come to be? Really, this has to be the dullest introduction I could possibly do. I can't think of anything else to write here. Early stages, so I'll change this when I have written more than about three pages.
1. Default Chapter

**The Times Forgotten**

AN: Persevere with the start. it may be technical, but you can probably gloss over most of it. It is meant to be a realistic mission log of a research facility. You don't need to understand the complex words to get what he's talking about. All characters owned by Squaresoft. As if you didn't know already... 

Prologue

Professor Alexander Zakharov fiddled with the tape. He twirled it between his fingers, considering the discs encased in the plasteel casing. _The optical disc is a matter of nanometres from the seeker head. And yet it never hits. It is a marvel of technology, and a feat of engineering._ He slotted it into the tape reader, and the disc whirred into life. 'Begin recording? Y/N' flashed across the display. Zakharov pressed down on the Y key with a bony finger.  
"Station log: Professor Alexander Andreyevich Zakharov, Project Director." The thick Russian accent escaped his lips and imprinted itself firmly in the ones and zeros that made up the disc. "The date is...2nd February, 2089. We have been working in the middle of the Pacific for more than three months now. I have overseen astounding development in the research of what we have called Shimura-Taniyama-Andersen quasi-formal energy. It seems that the STAQ energy comes from some process we have only begun to understand. It seems to be propagated in hydrocarbosulphate compounds that exhibit a helical structure: in essence DNA. The deoxyribosomes found in DNA seem to concentrate this energy. It, however, seems to require an activator key in the vast majority of human subjects tested.  
"Theorising on the possible structure of these activator keys has only just begun. The two people on our staff who do not need activator keys are being kept under laboratory conditions until we fully understand the effects of STAQ energy on the human body. It seems that they should be able to, theoretically at least, call on this energy to perform various tasks. It was postulated by Andersen that a small fire could be sustained using only STAQ energy from the human body.  
"We are continuing tests on this interesting development. I will inform the UN Science Committee of any further progress in this area. Zakharov out." He pressed the End key on the board, and the tape popped out. Zakharov snatched at it, gripping the tape in a vice-like grip before depositing it into the envelope that would carry it to New York. _I hate these weekly updates. I have nothing useful to say. And they make me speak English. I have to speak English in all of my logs. Chyort!_ A few more Russian curses passed through his thoughts before he decided that he had to accept it. English and Chinese were the two major languages of the world.  
The professor adjusted his clothing, then opened up his notebook. He picked up his pen, then quickly decided against it. With the speed of a man half his age, Alexander sprung out of his seat. and paced towards the door. _I'll go have a look at the research. It's much more interesting than writing notes._

Chapter One

"SeeD applications are up again. That's the third time in a row they've been up. The sorceress incident did a lot for our PR." The Headmaster shrugged. "But with the fall of Galbadia there's not much for any of us to do. I may have to think about laying off SeeDs. That's a weird thought."  
"I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Headmaster."  
"You're a great help, Squall." The Headmaster smiled. "But enough of my worries, how are things with you? Is Rinoa OK?"  
"She's fine. I'm fine. Everyone's fine. We're all fine. Bored, but fine." Squall fiddled with his buckle. "Do you want anything else?" The Headmaster shook his head, and Squall leaped up. The Headmaster held his hand up in front of his mouth and breathed. "Sir?"  
"Just checking if my breath smelled. You were in a hurry there. What's the trouble?" _Why do I bother, he's not going to tell me. But then, I don't want him to tell me. So why did I ask? It was polite, I suppose._ The Headmaster eased his hands across the desk and leaned back expectantly.  
"Nothing, sir. I just was a bit...hungry. Yes, hungry." Cid nodded, and Squall turned and quickly made his escape. Cid stared after him for a few seconds, then went back to his work.  
_It's no good._ Cid looked again at the tables. _They insisted in paying in their own currency. And it's slipped 15% against the gil this month. I would have hedged if I had known, but I couldn't afford the expense. I can't keep the money in rincs for very long, because we need the liquid assets as quickly as possible. There's just too many SeeDs and not enough work. What we need is some quick cash._

  
"Dr Brimston, over here." A young woman was trying desperately to lift a large piece of steel that had collapsed. Around her lay the remnants, mostly barely scratched, of the Deep Sea Research Facility. The air smelt stagnant, and a little acrid. A few shafts of light filtered through the dust-coated windows. Eerie shadows flitted across the walls as birds flew past the panes.  
Beneath the steel girder lay a bank of computers, barely touched. The doctor paced over to her, stretching out his hands to grasp the twisted chunk of metal. Together they managed to throw it away from the computers, and the two squatted down to examine the once-hidden contents. "It seems like some kind of data storage device."  
The old doctor nodded his head slowly. "Yes, I agree. This slot here" - he pointed to a small flap in one panel - "must take the cartridges. We should search for them amongst the debris." The facility was found almost by accident by Squall and his party during a trip across the globe, and it was a few months before an archaeological team could look at it thoroughly.  
It took a few minutes to find a box full of likely candidates. The doctor hesitated. "I want everyone to discuss this before we try these in there. We could damage important historical documents. I am not willing to take that risk." The young woman straightened up from the random piece of plastic she was examining and looked at the doctor.  
"You know that you can't take that attitude. We have no information on whoever built this place, so we're not going to gain anything by waiting. Where has your spirit for adventure gone?"  
"Young lady, it went to the same place as my hair. However, I still have my cautiousness. You do not know what is on here: it could be the self-destruct mechanism, for all we know. I'm sorry, but I cannot let you put these in that machine." The woman turned and stalked away from the old doctor, and for a brief moment he questioned his decision.

  
AN: I can't remember anything about the DSRF being mentioned in the game, so you're all probably going to tell me that this is wrong. Well, go on. I don't care. Shimura and Taniyama are two mathematicians who proposed the Shimura-Taniyama Conjecture (sometimes Shimura-Taniyama-Weil) concerning elliptic functions, and I'm going to leave it at that. You don't want to know, I don't want to tell you. That's a lie, I like telling people about maths, but they don't like hearing it. So I won't. See, didn't.

CR 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"A scientific genius I may be, but I cannot solve the impossible, and I cannot solve this!" He threw the collection of sheets across the room, scattering them in all directions. His assistant cowered behind a clipboard and a few pens. For a brief moment he lifted his gaze above the clipboard, and was greeted by a Russian snarl of disgust. "Why can't we activate it? I have tried every compound I can think of. Neuropeptides, RNA, all of the pituitary gland's emissions, even adrenaline. I can't get the STAQ energy to activate."  
"What if it's not a compound? What if it's genetic? A difference in the structure of part of their brains?" The assistant, also a genius in his own right, still quivered slightly as the professor raised his hands above his head.  
"I'm sorry, Dieter. I shouldn't have snapped. But we have been here for more than two weeks, with absolutely nothing to show for it. I have the UN Science Committee crawling around looking to cut our budget." The younger man nodded. "All we need is some more results. I'm going to look into the midbrain next. We've only studied differences in the frontal lobe, so far. Maybe the midbrain is the answer. If we can understand why these two people are different to everyone else, then we can set about replicating their condition." The old professor sat on the edge of his desk, crumpling a few loose sheets. The assistant cleared a few papers from the nearby chair and perched himself on the end.  
"Where should I put these?" He held up the papers for him to see. Zakharov shrugged, and with a sweep of his hand, motioned at the rest of the office. Dieter Kiefer looked around at the piles of papers, random heaps of notes and ramblings, and general disarray that any respectable scientist's office looked like. He shrugged, and dropped the papers on the floor.

Squall lay on his bed, his arms weary. The gunblade was heavy, over thirty pounds, and it took strength even to lift it, never mind swing such a thing through the air. But then that was why he trained. For hours he sparred with students, practising manoeuvres, honing the skills he would need to fight. Then he went to the Training Area, and battled T-Rexaurs one after another. He knew that his luck would eventually run out, and one would get him. He no longer took backup with him when he fought them, and if one of the monsters hit him just right, Squall wouldn't stand a chance. _Maybe that's what I want_.  
It was hard to explain the despair. So much training, so much effort and here he was, languishing in his room. His gunblade was propped up against the wall, not even sheathed. _What's the point? I doubt if I'll use it again._ World peace, whilst having its advantages, was not very good for mercenaries. Training for the worst was so much easier when the worst was on the horizon.  
He shifted position, facing the wall. Still in his thoughts, he chose to ignore the buzzer, hoping that whoever it was would take the hint and go away. After the fifth time, Squall decided to answer it. Squall padded across to the door, his feet tingling as he went. _It's Selphie. It has to be Selphie. Nobody is more insistent than..._ "Selphie! I never expected you." Squall turned and retreated back into his room, feeling safer in the half-light.  
"It's half-five in the afternoon, Squall! Get up! Or at least, open the curtains. Are you some kind of vampire? Come on, let's go get something to eat." Selphie bounced towards the door, then stopped. "Come _on_. Or we'll be late."  
"I am not hungry, Selphie. Go away." Selphie pouted for a second, then bounced up and down.  
"Let's eat already. If you're going to be like this, you have to go to bed earlier." Squall avoided eye contact, instead looking at his bookcase. _Harmann's Guardian Forces, The Complete Works of Dialeo, Economic Structures in Modern Galbadia? I have such a bad taste in books._  
"If you haven't noticed, that's what I'm trying to do." Squall tuned out Selphie, and went back to his books. _I'm sure I put these here just to look good. Is that vain? I'm not shallow. I don't care what people think._ Dimly aware of something, he pulled back his head to find Selphie dragging at his limp body.  
"If I have to drag you to the cafeteria, I will." _I remember something in one of those books on passive resistance. I'm fairly sure she won't do it._ "FINE! If you don't want to come you meanie, I won't drag you there." _Very useful. Now leave me alone._ "I'm going to find someone more active." With that, Selphie bounded out of the room.  
The room fell silent. Squall strained to hear the ticking of his wristwatch on the table. Anything to tear him away from the boredom of lying here. _I don't want to stay here, and I don't want to move. Maybe it's just company I'm not after. The library is a great place to not meet people._

"What did I tell you? The one thing I expressly forbid, and you go and do it!" The old doctor leant against a piece of metal he was using as a wakling stick. "You are too overzealous to be a real archaeologist. We should have studied the discs first."  
The woman breathed, composing herself. "I spent my time at university studying the relics of past eras, of civilisations that are distant memories, only present in the artifacts that we dig up, and the monuments that stand as reminders that we are all that we were. It is instinctual to want to see first-hand the evidence, especially when you can see the faces of the people whose skeletons we find every day on these expeditions. You can examine your plastic, kick pieces of tin across dust-filled rooms looking for that one piece of archaeological wonderment. Why should we not glean all that we can from these ancient people?"  
Dr Brimston stared at the woman. "Yes, well. What did you get?"  
"They seem to be some king of log. A person named Zakharov is making them. I haven't made out what he is doing yet. Although he doesn't seem to like something called the UN Science Committee. I need to watch more of them to get a better picture of what he's doing. Shall I carry on?" The doctor grimaced.  
"I suppose you'll have to. But it will be you that makes a full report to the Archaeological Council."


End file.
